


Polaroid

by SunshineChildx



Category: RWBY
Genre: Drunken Flirting, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff, This is so soft but they're also kinda thirsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23174641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineChildx/pseuds/SunshineChildx
Summary: "What about you?" Yang asks. "Mysterious, beautiful girl, with those long eyelashes that could drown the world." She whispers to her ear, making Blake shiver. "Your eyes tell me this is all play, just a game. Yet, underneath, your skin is on fire.""And what are you gonna do about it?" Blake murmurs."Make it burn, of course," Yang whispers with a breath that tastes like fire.Or,Yang goes to a gay bar, unaware that she'd meet the love of her life. At the end of the night, Yang has one photograph, one name, and a heart resolved to find her again.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 22
Kudos: 152





	Polaroid

"You've been staring at me all night. Still working out the courage to come and talk to me?"

Yang blinked in surprise when a beautiful woman approached where she was standing. She wasn’t wrong, Yang had been staring at her for a while now. _How not to_ , she thinks with a smirk.

This girl is different from everyone else at the club tonight. She’s definitely not dressed for a fancy party, but there’s something in the way she moves, she gestures, she eyes Yang, that’s inherently gorgeous, _effortlessly_ so.

There’s a faint dangerous glow underneath the molten gold of her eyes, something captivating, _alluring_. She waves her black hair over her shoulders, perfectly aware of the effect she has on everyone, Yang’s sure of it. Cheekbones high barely sprinkled by make-up, sharp jawline, and slightly sharpened fangs. Her lips are red, full like a crimson flower blooming in the night.

Yang can’t get enough of it. Definitely not this far from where she was standing.

Today must be her lucky day.

"That's a bold assumption.” Yang’s lips curve in a proud smile. She’s played this game before, stealing glances at the back of the club until one of them gave in and started the small-talk. _You came to me_ , Yang claims herself victorious – _I win_. “What makes you think this wasn't my plan all along?"

The mysterious woman smiles, amusement written all over her irises, eyes sharper than a blade.

"Oh, is that so? In that case, I admit I've been played.” She murmurs, leaning closer. “Firecracker."

"Wait.” Yang says, mild surprise evident in her voice. “What did you just call me?"

"Sorry, couldn't help but overhear earlier.” Blake smiles cockily, raising an eyebrow, testing Yang’s reaction. “You’ve got a cute face and a cute nickname, Firecracker."

"Isn't that a bit rude? Listening to other people's conversations?"

Yang feels her blonde hair swinging over her shoulder, the line of her jaw sharp and honest as she pins her eyes to Blake’s golden gaze. _Had she misread her?_

"It's quite hard to miss anything having this." Blake shrugs, wiggling her cat ears on top of her head. Yang snorts, tension leaving her bones like the morning fog, and watches Blake draw a smile of her own. _Cute_.

"Fair enough,” Yang nods, the sweet sincerity of her words proving her wrong in all the right places. A grin captures the corner of her mouth. “Am I getting a name or do I have to come up with a nickname for you?"

"Let's see what you got." Blake says, elbows resting on the counter beside her and leaning into Yang’s space as if she didn’t need an invitation to come closer.

"Would it be too forward if I called you ‘love’?"

Yang murmurs in the space between them, and it’s a nickname she’s heard before.

For a split second, Blake thinks of scars, of bruises and burned up cigarettes. She thinks of cold alleys, the iron taste in her mouth and the resolution to never stand in the shadows anymore.

She eyes Yang, gnawing at her bottom lip. Her toned muscles fit under her skin, the sharp angle of her jaw and how her lilac irises rest on her – patient, _warm_.

She reminds Blake of the Sun.

"It would be since you haven't even bought me a drink yet." Blake says, tilting her head at the sound of Yang’s soft laugh, drawn to it like a newfound melody.

"By all means, we don't want that." Yang shakes her head, smile sitting on her lips and neck slightly crooked so she can see the sparkles in Blake’s eyes.

"We sure don't."

Blake chuckles. Her black hair falls messily over her shoulders and Yang finds herself resisting the need to draw her fingers through it. _First things first_.

"Vodka? Rum? You look like a whiskey girl."

Blake slips her bottom lip between her teeth, red and swollen.

"How'd you know?"

"What can I say? I'm good at reading people.” Yang shrugs, voice charming and raw. “And I'm good at drinking, too."

"Well, you look like 'shots first, drink later' kind of girl."

Yang brushes her hair from her face, mindlessly tucks some blonde locks behind her ear. Blake follows with her eyes, traces the curve of her cheekbone, the veins on her neck down to the smooth skin of her collarbone, pulse beating beneath. She swallows.

"You're not wrong.” Yang says, rolling her eyes harmlessly as if she wasn’t purposefully trying to bring Blake to the edge of combustion. ”But as gorgeous as you are, I don't want to see two of you just yet. So drinks first."

Yang leans on the counter, the words easily leaving her lips. Blake wonders how many times she’s done this before. She orders two drinks.

"Cheers to that." Blake merely smiles, takes the drink from Yang’s hand and tastes the liquor slipping down her throat, spreading warmth through all her cracks and bruises.

"Yeah, cheers to that.” Yang raises her glass, lips curling. “So, you came alone, mystery girl?"

Blake shakes her head, her cheeks growing red by the alcohol running down her veins. "No, I came with a friend. Ilia. She's there, making probably awkward small talk with that girl over there."

Yang averts her gaze to the part of the club that Blake has pointed to. Ilia watches them with the corner of her eyes, a rising pink to her cheeks as she turns away.

Yang’s grin grows impossibly wider. "No. Really?"

"What? Why are you making that face?" Blake mimics her, Yang’s smile too contagious to resist.

"That's my friend Weiss.” Yang explains, eyes shining in amusement. “It's her first time coming to this kind of bar."

Blake follows Yang’s eyes and finds the woman who must be Weiss, next to Ilia.

Weiss is the only one at the club who’s actually dressed up, her eyeliner sharp, a faint blush blooming on her cheekbones, white hair cascading like snow in a high ponytail. She definitely doesn’t look like a regular.

"Same here.” Blake admits, golden eyes finding soft lavender, the pink of Yang’s mouth. “Seems like none of us are wasting our time, huh?"

"We sure aren't. Though I wish good luck to your friend.” Yang says instead, taking a sip from her drink, eyes still focused on Weiss. “She's gonna need it with that one. She's a bit rough around the edges."

Blake frowns. "Why so?"

"Cause she's a useless lesbian."

Yang smiles, eyes finally finding Blake’s, bathing with her light all of Blake’s shadows and corners. It doesn’t sound enough, like there’s more to it than she is telling her, but Blake doesn’t push it. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head.

"And what kind of lesbian are you?" Blake asks, completely shameless. She casts Yang a smirk that she can’t miss.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know." Yang says breathlessly. She lifts her drink to her lips, her breath misting the glass.

Blake feels Yang’s eyes follow the line of her clavicle, her throat, her lips. There’s something familiar in being watched liked that, in being _desired_ – yet something entirely new, thrilling. Something behind the embers of Yang’s gaze that screams at her to let go, to press closer.

Blake tilts her head, meets Yang’s worshiping gaze and smiles.

"I'd love to know. And I'd love to know other things, too."

She’s toying with her, Yang knows that. There’s something arousing in the uncertainty. Who will snap first, how long will they keep on playing this game, tiptoeing around each other, careful not to fall too soon.

Yang licks her bottom lip slowly, catches it gently with her teeth, makes sure Blake is staring.

"If I simply tell you, where's the fun?" She murmurs, holds Blake’s chin with her thumb and index finger.

"Then show me." Blake says abruptly.

Yang’s bottom lip is red and swollen from how she’s held it between her teeth. Blake thinks of stepping closer, of curling her fingers on her waist, feeling Yang’s breath brush against her own lips. She doesn’t. She doesn’t need to, because Yang is already all over her.

She palms her cheek softly, and Blake shifts to meet her gaze, golden like the morning light.

"Dance with me."

Blake blinks and all she sees is _lilac_ ; stars find their way through Yang’s eyes the way they scatter over the night sky, delicate but burning. It’s hard to be scared of the dark when Yang shines so bright.

"Okay." Blake says, the words leaving her lips feeling so right.

Yang offers her hand and Blake takes it. There’s no hesitance there, no doubts, only the firm grip on her hand and Yang’s fingers tugging slightly at her, dragging her to the center of the club.

Yang often thinks of _beauty_ : flashes of something so alluring that she can’t take her eyes off it, stunning factions and emotions winding their way around the lilac of her eyes, breath taken away by the simplicity of something gorgeous. _You’re beautiful_ , Yang tells her with a grin, and Blake believes her.

"Take a guess." Yang says over the sound of the music, rescuing the conversation.

Blake takes a moment to think, eyes scanning the woman in front of her.

"Breathtaking curves, gorgeous hair, killer smile. I'd say you're everybody's type of girl.” Blake says, placing her hands on Yang’s hips, body pressed against her chest. It’s more crowded in the club than she originally thought, but not that she minds one bit. “A heartbreaker. Probably a softie on the inside."

"And who's _my_ type of girl?"

Blake blinks at the question, and Yang can’t miss the slight flutter of her eyelashes, long and black and sharpening her gaze even more. Blake has a distinguished aura that contrasts with the kind of place they’re in, a menacing glow in her eyes that suggests that everyone else is beneath her, that she could bring Yang’s mouth to hers and let everyone else in the room she’s hers and hers only for the night, and it’s one more thing Yang adds to her list of _Reasons Why The Woman She Just Met Is Absolutely Bewitching_.

"You realize you've been staring at me the whole night, right?” Blake chuckles. “I thought that was clear."

"You're pretty high of yourself there." Yang doesn’t try to mask the blush that attempts to bloom in her cheeks. Instead, she pins her eyes to Blake’s, daring.

"I just recognize a hungry look when I see it." Blake shrugs, lips curling, her heart beating louder than any song they’re playing in the club.

"I could say the same."

Yang shifts impossibly closer, her pupils darting between Blake’s, the curve of her lips grows reckless, bright, becoming something stars take shelter on. Her hand falls to the side and finds Blake’s, fingers ghosting over her knuckles, her pulse beating steady behind her ribs.

Blake is the night, she thinks; she settles in Yang’s shadows, in her stolen glances, in her breathless lips. Yang’s her polar opposite. She’s the Sun; fills the cracks in Blake’s bones, the burning of her pulse, the heat in her veins.

Blake waits for her. Yang leans closer, closer, _closer_ – until she doesn’t. She stops before her lips find Blake’s, one husky breath away.

She could lean forward and put an end to this game, mark the start of another. Instead, she opens her mouth.

"What about you?" Yang whispers, fingers laced around the small of her back.

"What about me?"

Blake keeps her eyes locked on Yang’s, lets the dim light of the club pattern her face. A blush grows under her skin, colors her cheeks, flushes her neck. It’s always easier talking about someone who isn’t her.

"Mysterious, beautiful girl, with those long eyelashes that could _drown_ the world." Yang whispers to her ear, making Blake shiver. "Your eyes tell me this is all play, just a game. Yet, underneath, your skin is on fire."

At the back of her mind, Blake sees _red_.

She remembers scarred skin pressed against her, so tightly it hurt. She remembers blood and tears, and words with sharp edges that cut deeper than any knife she’d ever held. There was a promise, once, one that she made to herself; one that she wore like an armor, a shelter, a sign. _Don’t stand too close to the fire, don’t bloom under its warmth._ Blake remembers these words, they’re written on the walls inside her chest. _Don’t fall. Please, don’t fall._

In front of her eyes, Blake sees _lilac_.

Her gaze casts those shadows away until all Blake sees is light. It’s on the curve of her smile, the crook of her neck, her soothing voice and the sun behind her eyes. _I never knew the light until I met you_ , Blake thinks to herself.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" Blake murmurs, mouth against her ear.

She doesn’t move an inch, her heart pounding, bodies pressed together and the music sounding faint and distant. There are dozens of other people around them, hundreds of things left unsaid – but right now, there’s nothing else breathing on the surface of the earth but them, no sounds above their shared breaths in the short space that separates them.

"Make it burn, of course."

Yang whispers with a breath that tastes like fire.

Blake brings her hands to Yang’s face, cups her cheeks and closes the space between them, finding Yang’s mouth with hers. She’s standing on her toes, feeling Yang’s hands travel down her spine, fingers clutching on either side of her waist almost _desperately_.

Yang tastes like alcohol, like wildfire – like _freedom_.

"Fuck. I'm too sober for this."

They hear Weiss complaining, and so Yang breaks the kiss with a laugh, beaming. Blake’s barely aware that her face is slightly flushed, heart soaring like it found something it was dearly missing.

"Gotta agree with you on that, Weiss.” Yang nods. “Come on, let’s get some shots."

She finds Blake staring and she shrugs lightly, wondering what kind of lipstick stays perfectly in place after a kiss like _that_. Blake mirrors her smile, laughter spilling out of Yang’s mouth when Weiss grumpily makes her way to them murmuring complaints about Yang that don’t quite reach their ears, Ilia following closely behind.

Yang orders tequila shots.

Hours later, they would look back and wonder how did the night pass so fast.

Blake and Yang are so caught up in each other that they’re barely aware of their surroundings. The shots are quickly slipping down their throats, and more drinks continue to come. Blake’s amazed at how many different names of drinks Yang knows, she feels she might have worked as a barista at some point.

The corners of their vision start to get blurry, and so everything comes easier. Yang’s all around her, her hands are soft and warm against her skin, caressing every inch of uncovered skin that Blake’s outfit allows. Her shoulders, her arms, her hands, her neck, her jaw. Yang’s scent is everywhere, and she’s more intoxicating than any liquor they’ve had yet.

Blake also knows how to play this game, she thinks as she sloppily presses her lips to Yang’s neck, biting softly at her pulse point, brushing her lips on her smooth skin until she reaches Yang’s mouth – her tongue tastes like tequila.

She could spend a lifetime wrapped up in Yang’s kisses.

"My turn. Two truths and a lie," Yang says hours later, the haze of the alcohol still sitting in her veins. "I'm an only child, my eyes are red and my name means Sunny Little Dragon."

"That's easy," Blake complains as she sips at her glass of rum. "Your eyes are lavender. Are you too drunk to remember?"

"Well you, smartass, just failed.” She shifts her body in her chair and crosses her legs. “I have a little sister, her name's Ruby. I was checking on her over the phone when you heard my uncle call me Firecracker before."

"But your eyes aren't red, you're fucking with me." Blake frowns.

"Oh, I'd love to." Yang’s lips curl into a smirk, her soft lavender eyes suddenly growing a dark shade of red.

Blake nearly chokes on her drink.

"Holy shit. That's hot. How'd you do that?" She manages, her throat suffering the sudden burning of the rum.

"Those are tales for another day.” Yang says under her breath, lifting her drink to her mouth with an almost innocent grin. “But if you're really up for fucking..."

Blake knows where this is going and, for a moment, she hesitates.

She’s let Yang wrap her arms around her waist and hold her close all night, but that was different from actually going to her place when the night is over. Sober Blake would’ve instantly dismissed her, terrified of the intimacy but desperate for the affection.

It’s a good thing she isn’t sober.

Drunk Blake returns her smile, her mind lucid enough to know that it’s best to take things slow, even if part of her tells her to keep Yang’s warmth close, to not go just yet.

"Shut up. You've met me literally hours ago."

She says, a soft giggle escaping her lips. Strangely, she feels safe, at peace next to Yang. She wants to keep that, wants to take the right steps.

"Feels like longer."

Yang whispers, her gaze so intimate and familiar that she swears she’s done all of this before, like she knows Blake from another life.

_It does_ , Blake thinks.

She reaches out, ghosts her fingertips over the side of Yang’s face, caressing the skin under her eye. It’s tender and slow, the silence slips between them but all Blake can hear is Yang’s soft breathing, the lilac of her eyes delicately focused on her, only on her.

Yang kisses her, her tongue explores her swollen bottom lip and then her mouth. Shamelessly, openly, _true_. Blake can’t help a smile, mouths pressed together.

The night stretches, hours drifting by without them noticing. At some point, people start leaving the bar until they’re the only ones left.

Now sober, empty drinks forgotten on the table, Yang’s happily flirting with Blake; talking about nothing, talking about every little thing.

Yang’s leaning her elbows on the counter, her mind clear and comfortable, rambling about her sister and how much she likes boxing in her free time. Blake’s just _staring_ , so focused on Yang she can’t even notice the bashful affection in her eyes. But Yang does, and something in her chest flutters.

“Did you know,” Yang starts, and cups the left side of Blake’s face, pressing her lips to her cheek in a soft kiss. She releases her right after and smiles, not quite masking the pink flush of her cheeks. “You’re so _cute_ when you’re staring.”

“I wasn’t – ” Blake blinks, averting her gaze. She finds Weiss sitting on a table with Ilia. Blake’s face falls. “Hey, is your friend okay?”

Yang follows her eyes.

Blake’s right, Weiss looks anything but okay. She’s curled to Ilia’s side, her head fit in the crook of her neck, but Yang knows that expression.

She sighs, shifting away from Blake against her own wishes.

"I think she needs to rest.” Yang says. “I should take her home."

"I could use some sleep, as well. I guess we're leaving too."

Blake agrees, raising her arms above her head and stretching her muscles. There’s a sad ring to her voice, Yang notices.

" _Oooh_ , is your night ruined because I'm leaving?" Yang teases, lips curling in a playful smirk.

She looks so silly, but Blake absolutely adores her.

"No.” Blake says, rolling her eyes. She does her best to find the line between what’s too cheesy and what her heart wishes to say. “My night has been a _blast_ because you've been here."

Yang smiles at that, gaze lingering seconds longer than intended on Blake’s molten gold.

"Let’s go, Weiss." She finally says.

They watch Ilia and Weiss say goodbye, not too close as to hear what they’re saying, but it’s kind of evident from how flushed both of them are. Blake finds it cute, she wonders if she looks this delighted when she’s with Yang.

Weiss doesn’t look at them as she walks up the door, flattening her dress and phone in her hand, calling an Uber.

_I guess this is it,_ Yang thinks as she shifts to find Blake’s gaze.

"It's been lovely to meet you, er... calling you Firecracker doesn't sound right anymore."

Maybe it’s the lingering haze of the alcohol, or maybe the late hour at night, but Blake wonders if they ever properly introduced themselves.

Strangely, when she looks at her, Blake doesn’t feel she’s someone she just met. Like there was something connecting them in a way she’d never felt before, as if they were bound to find each other, somehow.

She pictures herself kissing the crown of Yang’s head, thinks of mornings with their limbs tangled in her bed, of pressing her lips to every inch of her skin without boundaries, without fears; thinks of revealing her soul to her and of being accepted, cherished – Thinks about _love_.

She must be going crazy.

"Yang," Yang smiles, and Blake feels her warmth as something tangible.

"Yang," Blake repeats, voice soaked with affection. "I hope we see each other soon."

Yang hesitates.

She looks like she’s going to say something, but then she reaches for Blake, holding delicately each side of her face, lips crashing against her own. She kisses her _passionately_ , unraveling all the fondness that’s been building up in her heart all night – all her _life_. She burns with pride, her blazes reaching the corners of Blake’s chest, consuming all her doubts, bearing her vulnerable; her fingers trail locks of black hair behind the shell of her ear, lips brushing softly the sensitive skin on her mouth.

Blake forgets how to breathe, forgets there’s a world beyond Yang’s touch, her voice, her _scent_.

She breaks apart, panting, and whispers.

“Goodbye, Yang.”

"Wait.” Yang grabs her by the wrist, loose enough for Blake to pull apart, and she takes the risk, heart pumping in her fingertips. “I know nothing about you."

It’s true, but it feels like a lie. There are a thousand things she once knew, she swears her heart remembers how her lips curl in a shy smile.

"Oh, right."

Yang sees Blake rummage through her purse and find a Polaroid camera, she tugs gently at Yang’s fingers, feels her arms securely wrapping around her waist.

She snaps a picture.

Blake stares at it, her lips drawing an absent smile as she scribbles something on the edge of the photo, her tongue barely sticking out of her lips, and then hands it to Yang.

She finds her lilac gaze when she raises her head and the dim light of the club shines above them. She’s _staring_ at her, the golden of Blake’s irises and the sound of her voice have grown roots on the fragile of Yang’s chest, her throat dry like a sandstorm.

It feels like a goodbye, she thinks. Feels like a _beginning_.

"Now you know my name."

Blake says, smile softer than a newborn star, and presses her lips to Yang’s left cheek.

She watches Blake’s figure, along with Ilia’s, walking ahead and vanishing in the shadows of the night. She swallows, heart thumping in her chest like it hasn’t in a long time – in a _lifetime_.

She reads the cursive letters carefully written on the photograph.

"Blake."

Yang whimpers, fire crackling in the vault of her chest.

She wants to treasure this night forever. She wants every second of it, every glimpse of Blake to be carved in her mind like marble, the outline of her cheekbones sculpted in her heart.

Yang looks down at her hands, still holding the Polaroid picture Blake took.

_Maybe it’s not impossible_ , Yang thinks, _to immortalize something precious_. Maybe it’s easier than trying to hold on to every little thing, every ring to her voice, every bit of future she’s seen in Blake’s eyes – every bit of _love_.

Maybe all she has to do is find her again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and first of all, thanks for reading!  
> This was originally intended to be the first chapter of a long fic that I've had in my mind for a while now, but I'm pretty sure I won't write the whole thing.  
> Still, I thought it would be nice to write this short scene, put it out in the world and finally out of my head hahah.  
> I hope you have enjoyed it :)  
> PS: This work was inspired by the song "Polaroid", by Jonas Blue, Liam Payne, and Lennon Stella.


End file.
